Maid for The Alphas by Layla Sparks
Here lies the first fallen soldier on the UBR battlefield. A moment of silence for my innocence.
The first official UBR NOT 5 STAR review.
Maid for the Alphas by Layla Sparks
A review told gently through gritted teeth…
This book strutted in wearing a cloak of potential. Beta daughter trapped in a hostile werewolf compound. Cruel father. Checked out mother. Fiercely protective aunt plotting their escape like she is the emotional support Liam Neeson of this universe. I was ready. I was intrigued. I had snacks.
She flees. Survives. Lands a maid job for a house full of alphas who could have been interesting.
Then the plot swan dives straight into a bottomless pit of… everything I do not want within ten feet of my imagination.
The shift is dramatic.
The vibes are unhinged.
The dryer becomes a crime scene.
By page two of her new job she is not dusting shelves. She is, instead, riding the laundry appliances like she is auditioning for Appliance Idol. Meanwhile, the alpha pack she works for? Empty vessels powered entirely by Hormonal Rage Mode. If someone unplugged their collective sex drive, they would vanish like gently deflated balloons.
But listen.
The word knot becomes a drinking game that would end civilizations.
And then we reach… the ick summit. A summit I never asked to climb. A summit I now see in my nightmares.
There is butt stuff. Fine.
Then there is this book’s butt stuff…
Which goes full Discovery Channel with a level of scent-based investigation that I truly believe should require a license. They write it as if this is the peak of seduction, like readers everywhere were begging for “olfactory intimacy.” Absolutely not. This is how my soul left my body through the emergency exit.
I wanted to like this. I tried to like this. I even put on my “be open minded” hat. That hat has been burned.
If this is your flavor, your kink, your cozy reading nook… I salute you. Enjoy it bravely. Truly. Taste is wide and glorious.
But for me?
This book was a never ending parade of icks, each one marching in with a little baton, followed by new icks I did not know existed.
The first official UBR Not Five Stars review.
May the next book wash my brain with lavender and light.
xoxo
